Back to old Memories
by Edely
Summary: OotPset fic, branching out into the Marauder's past, through Snape's memories. Concerns most main characters. Contains many allusions to ships. Mild SevJames slash. UPDATED 31005
1. Back to old memories

Chapter 1

Back to old memories

Severus Snape had just finished extracting some of the most private memories and tipped them into the Pensieve when the door of his office opened and closed back shut again. He straightened a little and turned to face a rather slight-looking dark-haired teenage boy. The expression of his bright green eyes was both apprehensive and defiant, making the corner of the teacher's mouth curl and his own eyes narrow. Something told him Potter didn't practice emptying his mind ... again.

"Ready, are you, Potter?" – he asked snidely.

The boy's face was stony, his eyes focused on a spot above his teacher's head when he answered curtly – "Yes...sir."

Snape's black eyes glittered, and a sneer was his only response. Well, if Potter didn't practice, it made things worse only for his silly self. Snape didn't care about the boy, his only worry was that the headmaster kept asking him how Harry's Occlumency lessons were progressing and urging him to encourage the boy. But Snape wasn't going to make it any easier for Harry to learn. Quite on the contrary, he was enjoying watching Potter struggle fruitlessly. This, he thought, was an adequate reward for the miserable years he spent studying at Hogwarts, watching Potter senior and his gang run around the school with unbearably superior attitudes...

Abruptly, his mind snapped back to reality as the Potions Master realized that Harry was eyeing him rather curiously, waiting for the lesson to start. Somewhat irritated, Snape said softly:

"Let's begin, then, shall we? Wand at the ready, Potter! One ... two ... three ... Legilimens!"

At the end of two hours, feeling slightly murderous, and greatly relieved, Snape dismissed Harry.

"Do not forget to practice every night, Potter. Though on second thought ... I very much doubt it will help you anyway"- he called at the boy's retreating back. The filthy look Harry gave his Professor over his shoulder was positively priceless. When the door closed, Snape chuckled softly, then walked back to his desk and sunk into the armchair, stroking his chin. The Potter boy _did_ look like his father. At times the Potions Master found himself staring at this replica of James during his classes or at mealtimes in the Great Hall and felt his heartbeat quicken slightly. But the impression evaporated as soon as either caught the other's eye – Lily Evans' emerald eyes were looking at him from James' face.

Snape sighed and shook his head, hoping to scare away the memories hidden deep inside his mind, so deep that none, not even the Dark Lord could find them, should he want to. A thought about Dumbledore came to him, but Snape trusted his discretion - the headmaster would not delve into his mind without asking permission. His gaze fell onto the silvery substance in the shallow basin, and he took a sharp breath. The face of a fifteen-year old Potter swam on the surface, mouthing soundlessly. Snape's first thought was Harry, but then he noticed that the boy's eyes were not dazzlingly green – they were hazel. The man watched the picture fade into a swirl of white and silver and then leaned back into his armchair, eyes closed tight. This memory was one of the few he would like to be wiped clean out of his brain, so that it wouldn't return to haunt him any more.

This was so long ago, and yet Snape remembered those two days in full detail.

Less then a week passed since he got off the Hogwarts Express on the first of September. He was sitting at the Slytherin table with the Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix Black, when a school owl landed in front of him and stuck out its leg for Severus to untie a small scroll of parchment. Before opening it, he glanced around – Bella and Rodolphus Lestrange were in deep conversation and could hardly take their eyes from each other, while Rastaban was too busy with his breakfast to take any notice of his surroundings. The boy's glance turned to the Gryffindor table and instantly fell on a group of four people. They were Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and James Potter. _His _James. And, as if he felt him looking, James turned his head. For a brief second, their eyes met. James' gaze shifted away almost instantly, making Severus wonder. This was rather strange, he thought, considering the way things were between them, back in their third year... Severus shook himself mentally and proceeded to reading the note. It contained a single sentence, scrawled hastily in the oh so familiar bold handwriting: _"Friday, midnight, usual place"_ "That's odd, now – Severus thought – He never was so lame before. What is this all about, I wonder?"

Bella's voice made him snap out of the uneasy thoughts. He crumpled the note and set it on fire, watched the ashes flutter down on the floor and only then asked, trying his best to sound relaxed: "What were you saying?"

Bellatrix enveloped him with a searching glance. "I asked whom was that note from, Snape. And what was the point of burning it? Afraid someone will read your correspondence?" The sneer in her voice was so obvious it was no use ignoring it. Feeling suddenly angry, he replied: "That was from my father. And it's no one's business why I burned this letter!" The girl's eyes narrowed under the slightly heavy lids, but she nodded, to show that she was satisfied with the answer. He didn't like the way the corner of her mouth twitched when she looked at him, but shrugged it off – he was getting paranoid, she couldn't suspect anything.

The rest of the day and the following morning passed in a feeling of mounting tension and uneasiness. When he crossed James in the corridors he couldn't catch his eye, and that added to the apprehension welling steadily inside him. What the more, he noticed that Bella kept stealing glances at him. Some were curious, and some – plain suspicious. Something told Severus that he'll need to be extra careful while sneaking out of the common room at night... Yet, oddly enough, he managed to slip away from the common room without hindrance – perhaps Rodolphus took Bella for a night time stroll? Whatever it was, Severus was relieved to find that both were out of his way.

He crept through the dungeons, lighting his way with the tip of his wand, crossed the Entrance Hall, where his steps echoed sickeningly, climbed several stairs, took a few shortcuts to avoid the caretaker and found himself on the third floor facing a picture featuring two Dryads being chased by a Satyr. Now, however, they were asleep in a tangled heap under a bush, all three snoring loudly. Severus' lip curled. He muttered the password _"willow wand"_, and a polished door appeared to his right. He entered into a circular room gently lit by candles set in braces on the walls. There was a big pool sunk right in the middle of it and a sofa on the far side, running the length of the wall. Severus glanced at his watch – he arrived a quarter of an hour earlier. Pulling a grimace he went and settled himself on the sofa, staring at the empty pool.

His memory took him back to the point where everything started for him and James. It was at the very beginning of their third year. "No, before that, - he corrected himself mentally,- I noticed the changes at the Hogwarts Express"

He walked out of his compartment to escape the sight of Rodolphus and Bella talking in low voices, laughing quietly, their hands "accidentally" touching now and again, in short – being all over each other ( as he called it). He was standing in the corridor, letting the wind from the open window blow in his face, when a familiar voice reached his ears.

"James, I'm bored stupid of watching you and Remus play wizard's chess! We know you're a lousy player, you should know it too by now!"

Amid snorts of laughter another voice answered in mock outrage: "How dare you assume such nonsense, Black! I'm the best at everything here!"

Severus rolled his eyes. He heard Sirius Black answering back calmly: "Potter, you prat, he won the last game in five moves, you want any more proofs? Leave the poor chessmen in peace and let's do something sensible before I hit you, you 'best in everything' loser!"

More laughter followed the reprimand, then there was a sound of a scuffle, an indignant "Hey!" from a third voice and the unmistakeable sound of something small falling to the floor and squeaking high-pitchedly. The next moment a nearby door slid wide open and out of it fell Black, shielding his head from flying chessmen ( who were still squeaking), screaming "Knock it off, Remus!", closely followed by Potter ("You will regret it, once I get my wand, Moony!").Finally, out walked Lupin, holding two wands in one hand and levitating the chessmen figurines with his own wand in the other. He propped his back to the wall and watched them struggle for a minute with a serene smile, then he waved his wand lazily and the squeaking chessmen fell to the floor with a clatter, showering Black and Potter.

"Ow!" – Black pulled himself upright, taking the hand Lupin offered him and felt his head gingerly. "That's going to be one large lump! What's got into you, Moony?!"

"I merely couldn't let you two idiots break my chessboard during that wrestling match, and, besides, what if a Prefect went storming down the corridor to get you in detention? This isn't the way I pictured a glorious return to school – having detention on the first evening we arrive."

"You keep worrying about detentions and Prefects as much, Moony, and you'll become one of them next!" – Potter snatched his wand back from Lupin's hand.

Lupin answered, a shadow of a smile on his face: "At least I have a chance of becoming one, unlike you two, James."

Black looked outraged and Potter said indignantly: "Moony, did you seriously think, even for one second, about either of us becoming a Prefect?! We'll have no life! Not with that Lucius Malfoy as Head Boy, anyway. I'd never want to be inferior to some stinky Slytherin!"

"Speaking of stinky Slytherins...",- Black said slowly. Severus had been wondering when someone will finally notice him and braced himself for what was to come. "Well well well... look who's here! Is eavesdropping a House tradition, Snape?" – the Gryffindor advanced on him, wand raised, ignoring the warning glance from Lupin and a frightened squeak from Pettigrew, who poked his head out of the compartment.

"There was no need to eavesdrop on you, scumbag, as you didn't bother to keep your voice at a normal level",- Severus spat back, wand at the ready.

"Language, Snape! You don't want me to get angry, do you? _Scourgify!_"

Severus' lips had barely formed the word "_Impedimenta!_" when he thought he heard two voices echo it and the next moment he was knocked off his feet by the tripled force of his own spell. He fell to the floor, hitting his head on the sill in process. He passed out for a moment and when he opened his eyes his vision was slightly blurry. But that didn't change the fact that what he first saw was Potter's face near to his, with something like genuine concern in hazel eyes. He found them exceptionally handsome, those eyes. He must have taken a good knock, to start thinking like that. Severus shook his head and found that it was being held up gently.

"How is he, James?" – came Lupin's voice from above.

"Conscious, at least." – Potter answered, his eyes still locked with Severus'. It was then, at this moment, that Severus realized that something strange was going on with Potter, and, what the more, it affected him as well. But that was impossible. There couldn't be anything in common between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin in general, and himself and Potter in particular! Dodging the gentle hand, he stood up jerkily and was about to do something stupid, when a familiar voice drawled smoothly from behind him: "So, Potter, barely boarded on the Express and already having fights? Tut-tut-tut. Now, let's see ... Potter, once we arrive at Hogwarts, I shall inform the Head of Gryffindor House of your behavior and she will certainly give you the detention I cannot give out just yet. It would be best if she banned you from playing Quidditch, but I won't get my hopes too high... You say as much as the first word of that sentence again, Black, and you'll be next in line for getting detention. Snape – you follow me." Lucius Malfoy, as usual, managed to make a theatrical appearance out of nowhere, making Severus wonder (as usual) whether he was doing it on purpose or being theatrical really was part of Malfoy's personality. He followed the new Slytherin Prefect and turned around on a sudden impulse. James Potter stood in the corridor, watching him go.


	2. Something Snaps

Chapter 2

Something snaps

Severus was still deeply immersed in his thoughts, replaying some of the most precious and cherished memories in his mind. Many of them caused a flicker of a smile appear at the corner of his mouth, some made him grin broadly, and he actually chuckled at a few. But among this multitude of pleasant memories there was none quite as dear to his heart as that of a stormy night in early September, exactly a year ago, he realized with a jolt. It was then, that, despite the howling wind, deafening thunder and torrential rain outside, he felt the happiest in his life.

A storm of ferocity yet unseen raged outside of Hogwarts. Rain, thunder and lightning attacked the age-old stone walls as if aiming to break them. The inhabitants of the Castle fled to the safe warmth of the Common Rooms and offices (if they were teachers), the ghosts didn't drift along the corridors and even the caretaker Brutus seemed to have finally taken some rest to nurse his rheumatism. Hogwarts seemed deserted. Severus would have enjoyed the fact, if only he hadn't so much going on in his mind.

He was sitting on a very large and comfortable windowsill just outside the Hospital Wing, watching the heavy raindrops hit the glass and not really seeing them. What he did see, though, were Potter's eyes, looking directly in his with uncharacteristic intensity, making him wonder.

Severus never felt so confused in his whole life. The way Potter usually behaved towards him and that searching, worried last glance just didn't fit together. Severus searched for an explanation of all this, but those as came to him were too ludicrous and impossible to be true. Except for one theory, which was, probably, the worst of all.

"What the hell is happening to me?",- he thought furiously, massaging his temples with his knuckles. The answer came immediately, but he didn't want to accept it, didn't want it to be true. He tried to escape the thought, tried to ignore it, hide from it, but it kept coming back to him.

"Damn",- he said softly and leaned his burning forehead to the ice-cold window, fighting angry tears. He hated himself. He had a crush on James Potter. And hoped that Potter felt the same way, hating himself even more for that.

"Wha-what are you doing here?",- the voice, though barely above a whisper, still made Severus jump, somehow managing to bang his forehead on the hard glass by doing so. He turned his head. There was a terrific roll of thunder and in a flash of lightning he saw the reason of his present self-hating state. James Potter, in person, was standing in front of him, wearing an expression of mingled perplexity, surprise and something that Severus very much wanted to interpret as joy at seeing him... "Stop being an idiot!",- Severus kicked himself mentally.

James lit the tip of his wand and approached him slowly.

"What are you doing here?",- he repeated the question, looking Severus in the eyes. Severus' mouth went dry at this look. He turned back to the window, leaning his now sore forehead back to the cold glass.

"What do you care?",- he hated the sound of his own voice, which came hoarse and humble from his unworking throat.

"I just ... care",- James answered quietly. Then, casting a worried glance over Severus' hunched form he added: "Do you want to freeze yourself to death or something?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, thinking up something offensive to say, when he realized he was actually shivering. So he merely shrugged and hopped off the sill.

Both boys stood facing each other, not knowing what to say or what to begin with. Finally, James said, somewhat gruffly at first: "Listen, I'm not good at talking ... But you knew where I was doing detention tonight, and you came ... I know what that means. So, without making any promises ... let's just ... try ..?" His voice trailed off.

During that little speech Severus intently stared at his shoes. When at last he looked up he saw Potter holding out his hand, palm upwards. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached for the offered hand. Their fingers twined, their eyes met. Neither said anything, they just looked at each other. Severus marveled yet again at how beautiful one's eyes could be. He didn't reprimand himself for the thought. There was no need of it anymore. Something happened inside him, turning his world upside-down. Yet, oddly enough, he did not mind. Suddenly, he noticed that James was grinning.

"What?",- he asked, with a touch of asperity that became trademarked in the years to follow. James was still grinning at him, undaunted, a true Gryffindor. Finally, he said, pressing Severus' hand gently: "You can look sort of nice, when you want, Severus".

Seeing his nonplussed face, James laughed: "Nevermind that... Let's get out of this place, it's freezing!"

A whole year passed since that moment, but Severus' heart still swelled to an unnatural size and his head felt light at the thought of something so good happening to him. He remembered how he felt back then, at the beginning when all the confusion and doubt faded. A gentle glow settled inside him, as if someone lit a small lantern deep within, and suddenly his life didn't seem so dark and dreary.

It was odd, having someone caring about you, that person not being your mother. More odd still was the fact of this person being James Potter.

He was raised (or grew up, more like – his father never let his mother raise him properly) to believe that couples consisted of a man and a woman, and all different from that were considered out of order. But being close with James wasn't repulsive or unnatural. On the contrary, it was natural and easy, and it just felt so right.

Sometimes after hours of listening to Lucius' ramble about girls he dated (for some odd reason, Malfoy tended to talk to him of all these matters), Severus had brief moments of curiosity: what would it be like – being with a girl, for a change? Probably dismal,- he answered himself, judging by Malfoy's talk and what little he knew or guessed about girls. They were odd creatures, constantly giggling and talking in whispers, laughing shrilly and often saying nonsense. Although, according to Lucius, there was at least one good thing about girls. Severus even went as far as interrupting him in mid-ramble to ask what exactly this thing was. Malfoy smirked and his grey eyes glittered coldly when he drawled: "You'll learn soon enough" Looking him over appraisingly, he added: "And it's high time, too"

Severus shrugged and privately decided to listen to Malfoy in complete silence the next time.

Yet, despite the pleasant reminiscences, Severus was anxious. James' behavior bothered and alarmed him. He was carefully avoiding Severus whenever he crossed him. Severus knew that those friends of James, especially Black, wouldn't be happy if they learned about him and James. But that didn't stop him last year, and as far as he remembered it was James who started the whole thing.

"If they knew, Black would've probably already tried to hex me or maybe beat me to a pulp. Wouldn't put anything past the brute",- Severus thought.

But what was it then? Suddenly, James' voice sounded clearly in his head: "No promises, from either of us. It would be best."

Yes, James said that more than once, when they finally tackled the serious talking.

"You sound like a classic Slytherin, James. Surely the Sorting Hat didn't make a mistake three years ago?",- Severus remembered asking once during such a talk.

"No, it's just your influence, Sevvie dear",- James answered at once in a breathy voice, making a silly face and battering his eyelashes in a perfect imitation of Ivy Parkinson. She was an exceptionally plain-looking and dim-witted Slytherin girl, who, to his utmost distress, was in love with him and made a point of acting stupidly when he was around and persistently called him 'Sevvie' for all the Great Hall to hear.

"Ugh! Knock it off, Potter, you're disgusting!",- Severus flung a towel at him, but James dodged it and next second another towel hit him squarely in the face, making him lose balance. Lying on the cold floor of the circular bathroom, Severus brushed it away.

"Why do you always have to show off your Quidditch skills?"

"Aw, Severus, don't scowl, you should know I always retaliate... It's more of a second nature than anything",- the Gryffindor added somewhat apologetically.

"Yeah, you've proven that on countless occasions, James"

James left the sofa where he was sprawled in a relaxed fashion to join Severus on the hard floor. He bent over the lying form, looking at him silently.

"You've got the best eyes"

The smile on his face and the warmth radiating from hazel irises made Severus' heart leap. The gentle finger tracing his jawline made him catch his breath. James bent closer.

"I've always found the color black very intense. _Your _eyes prove me right every time"

Severus breathed a sigh of pleasure as James put a light kiss on the corner of his lips.

He was still smiling at the memory when the door opened soundlessly to let in the slender frame of James Potter. Severus looked up, coming back from his reverie.

"It's been a long time, James",- he said in a low voice, watching the Gryffindor closely. He thought it would sound sappy to say "I missed you", even though it was on the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right, it's been a long time",- was the response.

Severus didn't like the sound of his voice. It was tense, uneasy, so unlike the usually relaxed James Potter he grew accustomed to in the third year.

There was a strained pause, during which James paced back and forth, arms crossed on his chest, avoiding Severus' eyes, while the latter was watching his every move.

Finally, he heaved a sigh, his palms curled into fists and he turned to face Severus, who hadn't moved an inch and waited in silence, bracing himself for whatever was coming. He already knew it would be something unpleasant, having guessed it by James' nervous state.

Still avoiding direct eye contact, James cleared his throat and spoke in a rather shaky voice: "You know I'm bad at talking, Severus. But I have something ... important ... and ... unpleasant ... to say."

Severus waited with bated breath, staring hard at James.

He went on, slightly more confident: "You remember, last year, we agreed on not making promises and binding ourselves, in case ... something ... happened. Both of us"

Still silent, Severus nodded slightly.

There was another deep sigh, and then: "Well, Severus, it happened. I ... I fell in love",- here, for the first time, James looked squarely into Severus' eyes. Their gazes were still locked when he finished the sentence: "With a girl"

It took a whole minute for the message to sink in.

At first, he felt dumbfounded, as if someone bashed him on the head with a saucepan. Heat and cold coursed in quick succession though his body. Then his insides seemed to deflate, leaving him empty in an odd sort of fog, with something like a hundred thousand pounds weighing on him, only dimly aware of James being in the room and watching him concernedly. The sensation was very much the same as being thrown into a bottomless pit and sinking to its depths. The feeling was gone as unexpectedly as it came, the surroundings were thrown into sharp relief as oxygen began coursing through his lungs again. The realization finally burst through the fog of incoherent thoughts and images and reached his unworking brain. No, 'reached' was not and adequate word to describe its effect. What it did was hitting his mind like a meteor, burning, tearing, ripping at his heart and soul, leaving a trail of black ashes in its wake. All the good feelings and bright pictures were scorched and shriveled. The seedlings of compassion, understanding and trust were wiped out without trace. It was harder to do the same with love, as it became a part of him over a school year, but that would disappear too, eventually. Something snapped, deep within. The small light glowing inside his heart went out. Everything went dark and hollow.

"Severus..? ,- James' voice was quiet and worried,- How ... how are you?"

James made the first step to approach him. He never got the chance of making the second one.

"How am I?" Severus hissed, torn between rage and despair. "How _am_ I?!",- he repeated more loudly, leaping to his feet. "You avoid me like the plague during a whole week, then you send a cryptic one-liner, and finally you come here announcing that you are in love with some girl. Honestly, James, I thought you'd have more sense than to ask how I am after all this!"

"Severus, listen ..."

"No, you are the one as should listen, James Potter. A few minutes ago you made a part of my world shatter. You made me lose a piece of my precious self. What you've done is irreversible, and I'll be damned if you won't have to face the consequences! I wonder, though, how does it feel, ending in this fashion something you've started?"

James' face changed. His jaw had gone rigid and his eyes flared dangerously: "As far as I remember, Severus, you were the one who came to me that evening last year."

Severus narrowed his eyes and smirked deliberately: "Why, yes, but I wasn't the one giving off passionate stares ... or was I?"

The sight of James Potter going red in the face gave Severus the twisted kind of pleasure he realized he missed. Shame it didn't last long. James recovered quickly. And retaliated.

"That's exactly the reason why I insisted on not giving promises. If you took this whole thing too seriously it's not my fault, but yours",- the words were barely distinguishable, coming through clenched teeth, the hazel stare was giving off ice and fire at the same time.

This was more than Severus could take. Those last words were the more painful for being true. He made a mental note of pruning out such a nuisance as conscience. He took out his wand, but didn't raise it. For the moment.

"Get out, Potter. I don't want t see you, nor have anything in common wit you. Get the hell out of here before I blow that overstuffed head of yours clean off."

James watched him for a moment, searching his eyes. Then, without a word or backward glance, he left the room.

Severus stood in the middle of the prefects bathroom. The ringing silence that settled after the blazing row weighed on him heavily. More heavy still was the feeling of utter and complete loneliness.

Professor Severus Snape was sitting in his favorite armchair, hands clenching and unclenching, fathomless eyes distant. On a table before him sat a basin, which filled the dark study with a dancing, shimmering white light. Many long hours passed in silence, evening turned into late night, and the clock on the wall showed that dawn was on its way.

With a sad sort of sigh, the dark-haired man stirred. He extinguished the few candles that were still burning with a wave of his wand. Standing up, he cast a last glance at the Pensieve.

"Enough memory-stirring for tonight"

As if the object had a mind of its own, its light faded slowly in a swirl of silver and white.


	3. What he didn't know

Chapter 3

What he didn't know

"Harry..",- Hermione Granger didn't have the chance to say the next words, but the anxiety in her voice spoke for itself.

"Mione, wadduncha leevem alonefehrunse?",- Ron Weasley backfired as instantly as he could, trying to articulate words through the indecent amounts of toast with marmalade he previously piled into his mouth.

Hermione scowled at his manners and was about to throw a scathing reply, more like a burning arrow into an enemy fortress than anything, judging by her face, when an uncharacteristic sound coming from Harry's place by the table made her forget all the sarcasm and anger. Ron even stopped trying to chew his toast and swallowed loudly, staring at his friend in disbelief.

Harry, who had been continuously jumping at their throats for no apparent reason for the past months, and had kept yelling or hissing (or both at once) at them about their constant bickering or resorted to other 'Harry' means of punishing them for that, now was actually working hard not to let another snort escape his lips.

Ron's jaw hung wide open, and Hermione silently thanked the heavens for the fact that he previously swallowed everything he had been chewing. Still, both friends exchanged puzzled looks and simultaneously turned to Harry, mutely asking for some explanation. Hermione went as far as to raise an eyebrow enquiringly, something she hadn't done for quite a long time during this school year.

Harry, though, kept silent; he just looked at them both, half-amused, and half-annoyed. More amused, though, he thought sincerely. Whatever he said to Ron and Hermione, he thought their little arguments very entertaining. But only the little arguments, not the blazing rows they always threatened to turn into. He wouldn't forget in a hurry the one those two had after the Yule Ball during their Fourth year. And, in that particular case, he sided with Hermione rather than with Ron, though he wouldn't admit it to him for all the treasures in the world.

The pause got a little too long, and Harry finally spoke up: "There's no need to start a fight over me and my Occlumency today, Ron. And, Hermione, the answer to your question is – yes, I'm honestly trying to do something, but Snape, me and concentration don't seem to be able to hold in the same room for long – you know what he's like. Do you really have to ask it all the time?"

Hermione shook her head, sighed and was about to apologize for nagging when Harry almost imperceptibly shook his head, giving her the same look she saw him exchange with Ron after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, a year ago. It spoke plainly: "Don't. It's okay, I understand". And Hermione, who was good at taking hints (well, better than Ron, anyway, she thought), silently gave him a bit of a smile. Ron, who was rather busy ladling more marmalade on still more toast, shoot them a suspicious look. Hermione didn't know why (or rather pretended she didn't), but she suddenly felt great satisfaction. Harry's voice, quiet and rather thoughtful, brought her to reality.

"There's one odd thing, though...",- he said. Two heads snapping up and two pairs of eyes looking intently at him, prompted Harry to continue.

"Well, we all know, Snape hates me." Two nods. "We know he hated my dad at school, we even know that dad saved his life once, which made Snape hate him even more." Two more nods.

"Yeah, must have been a sore blow to old Snape, that one!" Ron piped in delightedly, having chewed through another stack of toast with marmalade. Harry grinned at him. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well,"- Harry went on,-"we know all that, but still I don't get the point of him hating _me_. I'm not exactly my father, am I?" Two headshakes. Harry sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm in a torture chamber down there, and the executioner is testing new methods on me. Why won't he just ignore me or something?" Harry let out a long sigh of frustration, ruffling his already messy hair with both hands.

Hermione exchanged another quick glance with Ron and they turned to face Harry, both their expressions commiserating. The three looked at each other for a second, then Harry waved his arms in a dismissive gesture and stood up: "Oh, forget it. I'm in a weird mood today."

"_That_ we noticed all right",- Ron muttered to Hermione in a low voice as they scrambled up to follow Harry to Charms.

In a dormitory up the Gryffindor Tower a door opened and closed, though nobody was seen entering. Sounds of slow, deep breathing were coming from three four-poster beds.

In a flutter of air, something silvery fell to the floor and a boy sank onto his bed, staring into nowhere.

"Care for a chat, James?",- the voice was low and a bit hoarse.

James Potter didn't so much as turn his head.

"Oh, I see. You're in no fit state to entertain right now. Shame, really, because a talk can ease your conscience"

Finally, Remus got a response out of him: "Leave it, Moony. Not now"

"Suit yourself",-Remus Lupin shrugged, his expression mild, but his eyes, concerned, flicked towards James' form now and again, glinting eerily in the dark.

James didn't pay attention to that. His head was full fit to burst with other things and they all needed intense thinking-over.

Among the general confusion in his brain there was one clearly defined thought, or, rather a feeling. The sickening feeling of guilt, which was gnawing at him from the inside. It settled in his chest and spread through his whole being like some virus. Maybe he was imagining things, but it even made breathing hard for him. Flashes of the conversation which took place five minutes ago and nearly ended in a fight kept popping up in his mind and each one sent shockwaves in his brain, making him cringe.

In an attempt to escape them, James kicked off his shoes, got out of his robes, tossing them on the floor in a tangled heap, and changed into pyjamas, forgetting to remove the annoying but necessary glasses. Then he climbed onto his four-poster and drew the crimson hangings closed. Unsurprisingly, neither of those evolutions helped.

James didn't let himself sink into the warmth of his bed - instead, he pulled himself in a sitting position, drew his knees under his chin and clasped his hands around them. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let out a quiet sigh.

Then, finally, he stopped resisting his memory and let the flow of painful recollections rush over him.

_Get out, Potter. I don't want to see you, nor have anything in common with you. Get the hell out of here before I blow that overstuffed head of yours clean off_

Those were the last words Severus addressed to him. It was painful to hear them again and again, and the quiet venomous hiss in which they had been uttered made the pain sharper.

However, it was nothing compared to the change in Severus himself that went right before James' eyes: in less than a minute, he seemed to age several years. His shoulders slumped, he hung his head for a moment, and when he looked up, James gasped involuntarily. Severus' face was white as chalk, all the lines and features somehow even more pronounced than before, a crease appeared between his eyebrows, but it was not the thing that made James gasp. The black eyes looking at him now were void, hollow, there was no sign of the warm glow that settled there a year ago, only for him to see.

James stared in the space unblinkingly, regardless of his eyes watering and stinging.

He did not want this to happen, even when he realized that he would have to tell Severus everything. He wanted to break the news gently, but he did not have the gift of diplomacy Remus seemed to possess in unimaginable quantities. Of course, he never had illusions as to what Severus' reaction would be, but he somehow didn't imagine it would cause quite such an impact.

Yet again, Severus' face appeared before his eyes, and James let out a long shuddering breath, screwing up his eyes against the lump growing steadily in his throat, his hands clenched into fists.

"Why did things turn out the way they did?"- he wondered furiously, opening his eyes.

"Because you are a champion in messing things up, James Potter" – Severus' voice whispered venomously inside his head.

"Because you follow your desires, accomplish what you are up to and have a pathological disgust at lying" said a quiet voice at the back of his head. Curiously, it sounded remarkably like Remus.

And, as it often was the case with Remus' words, they happened to be accurate.

Yes, James did follow his desires, it was something his father taught him long ago. As for determination – this was part of his being.

James was eight at the time, and desperately wanted a broomstick. Ever since he saw his first game of Quidditch, he longed to fly like those bright-robed witches and wizards, high up over the ground, doing all the amazing and dangerous moves they pulled off so easily.

He was a late child, an only child, his mother loved him dearly and was afraid for his every step, sometimes even making him feel ashamed. His father never showed such fussiness and tried to restrain his wife, for fear to spoil the child, but James knew that he, too, cared for him very much.

And, although on other occasions Mr. Potter succeeded in persuading Mrs. Potter that the danger was scarce and James will be safe, this time she was adamant. James raged about in his room many times, yet he still tried his best to submit. However, he started collecting money in secret and doing exercises too, in a wild hope that his dream might come true sometime.

His father guessed as much and one morning, when the argument was quite forgotten, walked in his room to find his son panting and puffing on the floor. James feared that he might get punished, however, Mr. Potter didn't seem angry. He didn't say anything either, just ruffled his hair and smiled, with an odd spark in his eyes.

Later that day, when James went down to dinner, there was a surprise waiting for him – a brand new top-of-the-range broomstick. His mother handed it to him, her eyes overbright, and hugged him tightly. Then, his father said, taking him by the shoulders: "James, whatever happens in your life, remember this – always follow your heart. Even though we wizards have a long life, it is still one only. You may not always do the right thing in the end, but you will not have to regret something you have never done."

Strangely, this memory soothed his inner turmoil – his tense muscles relaxed, and, unwrapping himself from the hunched sitting position, he stretched on his back, hands under his head. Slowly, but steadily, sleep was gaining on him, anxious thoughts about Severus ebbing away till tomorrow morning, letting more pleasant ones about the pretty Evans girl in. Finally, after several more minutes' balancing on the edge of dream and wakefulness, James fell in a deep slumber.


	4. On the side opposite

Chapter 4

On the side opposite

Severus didn't know how his feet carried him to the welcome darkness and silence of the Dungeons. Neither did he remember how he managed to avoid the caretaker Brutus along the way. When he (relatively) came to his senses, he was already in his dormitory, staring at the mirror with unseeing eyes.

After a while his blurry vision became focused again, slowly adjusting to the darkness of the dormitory, and Severus was finally able to discern his own reflection.

Through a long black fringe up at him were looking two dark eyes, standing out on the sheet-white skin, the pupils hardly smaller than the irises. His lower lip was swollen from all the biting he must have done on the way down here, and there was a drop of blood welling steadily on the right-hand corner. "Probably this is how Muggles picture vampires", he thought grimly. "What kind of nonsense is this?!" he asked himself furiously at once. He watched the red drop swell for a time, and licked it off before it trickled down to his chin. Sick of the sullen face staring back at him out of the shining glass, Severus turned away and went to sit on his bed.

"Why did this have to happen?" he asked the darkness around, not knowing that somewhere up in the Gryffindor Tower another boy was wondering the same thing.

So he sat, listening to the utter and complete silence, letting the misery grow until it seemed to fill his whole being, making his breath catch in his chest and his eyes sting, his heart pumping painfully fast against his ribs, punctuating the swirl of thoughts going on inside his head.

Thump. _I didn't want this to happen._

Thump. _Nor, probably, did he._

Thump._ What gives me that idea, though?_

Thump. _What if he did it all on purpose, just to make me miserable and boast to his friends?_

Thump. _What if all the last year was just an act, a huge lie?_

Thump. _No, it couldn't be, he's a _Gryffindor_, and they're supposed to be _honorable

Thump._ Are they?_

Thump. _James is._

Thump. _Why am I so certain about this?_

Thump. _Why should I believe him anymore?_

Thump. _Because he didn't cheat on me, but went and threw the news in my face instead._

Thump. _Would it be better if he cheated?_

Thump._ No._

Thump._ But at least I'd have an excuse to hate him right now._

Thump._ Do Slytherins need excuses to hate someone, though?_

Thump. _No, they only need reasons, the rest doesn't matter._

Thump. _What are _my _reasons, then?_

Thump._ He gave me something no one ever offered, and then took it away, with a piece of myself in tow, leaving me less than I have been before, and so much more at the same time. _

Thump. _I hate him because I will have to cope with it by myself from now on._

Thump. _I hate him, because I still love him, and that is the worst part of the situation._

He couldn't bear the serene sleepiness of the dormitory anymore, it was weighing on him, threatening to suffocate him – or drive him mad.

He leapt off his bed with a jerk and tore across the dormitory, tripping on a stray shoe along the way.

Nearly falling through the door into the Common Room, he cursed furiously and straightened up, gasping for air. The vast Common Room was silent, but for the weak crackling of the fire dying slowly in the grate. Severus drew a long breath. The spacious coolness of the room drowned a bit of the strain he was feeling right now, he felt less constricted and slightly better.

He chose the armchair near the fireplace and collapsed in it, reviving the flames with a half-hearted "Incendio". As he watched the tongues of fire leaping up and bending in all directions, Severus' anger subsided, and he fell into a phase of cold numbness, neither knowing, nor caring how much time had passed.

Thus, he did not notice neither the gentle creak of the door, or the sound of footsteps, muffled by the thick carpet. However, the smooth drawl of Lucius Malfoy's voice, coming from somewhere behind him startled him into attention.

"And what would you be doing out of your dormitory at two in the morning, Snape?"

"Oh, _great_!",- Severus snarled inwardly. What he surely did _not_ need right now was getting cornered by Lucius Malfoy, without the faintest chance of escaping an interrogation. Because an interrogation was most likely what he would go through. He would quite gladly accept detention instead. Hell, a week's worth of detentions would seem paradise compared to this torture!

Slowly, he turned his head in the direction whence the words came and, surely enough, spotted the speaker standing in the shadows, leaning leisurely on a particularly large and ugly candelabra, his pale eyes reflecting the firelight.

"I could ask you the same question, Malfoy",- he answered softly, trying to keep his voice even, his face smooth and blank, and maintaining a steady eye-contact. He thought he caught a glint of amusement in the older Slytherin's eyes, but chose to ignore it, frantically searching for an escape route.

"Why, yes, you _could_ ask the question, but, I'm afraid, you would not get any _answer_." – was the mocking reply.

Severus fought hard not to retort. Maybe if he just kept silent he would be left alone? Malfoy, however, showed no intention of leaving him alone. Quite on the contrary, he seemed determined to make him feel worse, if possible, than he already felt. He proved it by leaving the candelabra in peace and coming to sit on the couch to bother him instead.

"Well?",- came the sneering drawl.

"'Well' what?" – Severus spat.

Lucius Malfoy looked long at his outstretched hand, examining his fingernails concernedly before finally turning to Severus. In the flickering light of the fire, Severus noticed that Malfoy was not wearing the usual school robes – he donned black trousers and sweater, with a white shirt underneath, the whole covered by a long cloak, instead. As far as Severus understood, this particular style was the height of class.

The second glance showed that the trademark platinum hair, usually slicked back, was now interestingly windswept, the fringe falling into his eyes.

_I wonder..._ Severus wasn't given the chance of developing the thought any further, as Malfoy finally spoke.

"'_Well'_, what-the-bloody-hell-are-you-doing-in-the-common-room-after-hours?" – the sentence came in one breath, and his voice somewhat lost its drawling quality, sounding sharp, harsh, and irritated.

Severus noticed this sign of imminent danger, but paid no heed to it. Something woke inside him that had been lying dormant for almost a year, and now was desperate for a fight. If the look on Malfoy's was any indication, the fight was well on its way.

"Why don't you just go to your dormitory and straight to that cozy bed of yours, Lucius? You seem to have had a rather ... _busy_ time" – Severus said with mock concern, his eyes traveling over the other Slytherin. He was now being blatantly disrespectful towards authority and thoroughly enjoying it.

The Sixth Year's face was deathly pale for rage, but his movements were deliberately slow as he produced a wand from a hidden pocket and started twirling it between his fingers, squinting his eyes slightly.

"You seem so reluctant to tell the truth, Severus... maybe I should just hex you into it?"

Severus' hand flew to his own wand, as he stood up.

"You can always _try_, Malfoy. Any curse you might use, I will deflect"

Malfoy stood up, too, in a graceful, fluid movement, looking him up and down, with a steely glint in his eyes and a cruelly amused curve to his mouth.

"_Any_ curse, you say? Why, you are being just as arrogant as the Potter brat now, Snape- "

Severus did not hear the rest of what Malfoy had to say. Before his brain could interfere, without consideration, or, indeed, any coherent thought, he sent a Reductor curse straight at the blonde head. Malfoy ducked only just in time. Right behind him, a candelabra was reduced to dust.

"Thinking about the Unforgivables, are you, Malfoy? Well, compare me to damned James-Gryffindor-Chaser-Could-Be-Seeker-Potter just once more, and you'll find yourself on the receiving end of one."

Severus' voice was barely above a whisper, but, strangely, it seemed to carry through the Common Room as if he'd shouted. Malfoy's drawl transformed into a hiss, as he replied:

"Keep talking, Snape, and you'll earn yourself a nice little jet of green light straight in the chest."

Perfectly undeterred, Severus made three slow steps towards Malfoy, until he was an inch away from his wand tip.

"Oh, so they finally told you about Avada Kedavra, did they? Well, you've got a fine chance to test it now. But, I'm afraid, if you will, there'll be no Headboyship for you any time soon. Coming to that, there'll be no Seventh Year, either. But, by any means, – go on, say the words and let's see if it works"

Saying those last words, Severus tilted his head to one side, smirking, his eyes locked with Malfoy's. His surprise was enormous when, all of a sudden, Malfoy hid his wand, chuckling.

"Well, well, well. So we _have_ got an attitude, then. Good."

Overcoming his temporary bewilderment, Severus scowled, crossing his arms.

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"That means",- Malfoy flopped back onto the sofa, - "that I was not mistaken in you, Severus"

"What the _hell_ are you going on about, Malfoy?" – Severus breathed out, striving to comprehend.

"Tell me, Severus, have you ever considered your future?" – the Sixth Year inquired in a businesslike tone.

Severus sat down, his eyes glued to the older Slytherin's face. Malfoy nodded thoughtfully.

"I knew you didn't. But that is perfectly understandable – you're only a Fourth Year. However, I have to tell you this – the Wizarding World is at war now, as you know full well, and your whole life depends on what side you choose. Will you stand by the pathetic Ministry we now have, with all their waffle about equality and disregard for blood? Or will you join the new power that has risen and strengthened in the last years? This power will bring a new order to things, setting the world as it should be – no more Mudbloods, Squibs and _far_ less Muggles..."

Severus let Malfoy talk for a long time, all the while processing what he was hearing, and thinking it over. Lucius was talking about joining a new power, opposing itself to the ministry and what he knew as the rules. And leading that power was a Dark Lord, whose name nearly all the Witches and Wizards feared to speak – _Lord Voldemort. _

Severus knew of his methods, and of his ideas, and what he knew was quite enough to fill him with dread. But then, the same ugly thing within him that had lifted its head when he was about to fight Malfoy stirred yet again, whispering to him.

_Once you join the Dark side, there will be no one to tell you what you can or can't do. You join, and experiment with curses on whomever you want to. You join, and you get your revenge at everyone._

Severus shivered at the thought. Yes, he wanted revenge. He wanted blood. He wanted to make James Potter's life a hell, for a lost year of his life. For once, between the two of them, _he_ will retaliate.

Lucius smiled widely to himself, watching the retreating back of the Fourth Year kid he just convinced to join the Dark Side. The boy was pathetic in many ways, really – take his _looks_ for instance... the tatty robes, the rather greasy hair... Lucius frowned. He watched Severus Snape for a longer time than the boy knew, and at times he was positively sure he looked different. It lasted all the Third Year – his hair wasn't as bad as usual, nor were his clothes... And now it all ended abruptly, and Severus refused to tell what kept him up for so long tonight.

_I wonder..._ Lucius smirked to himself. Oh, he _will_ drag it out of his new protégé, sooner or later. Later seemed more probable, but he did not mind. He imagined how _he_'d feel, admitting being dumped by some girl. Although, that never happened to _him_.

After a time, he extinguished the flames in the fireplace with a lazy flick of his wand, and found the way to his Dormitory in total darkness, still wearing a very self-satisfied grin.


	5. Confessions

Chapter 5

Confessions

"Remus?"

A boy with light brown hair and soft features smiled to himself upon hearing the shy voice call his name. When he turned around, the smile left his lips to come and hover in his eyes instead.

"Yes, James?"

Remus found the ability to make his voice even and his expression mild in every situation very useful, especially when trying to make his friends feel ashamed of themselves. He also found their absolute and complete ignorance of this guilty pleasure of his rather encouraging. And right now he was using his natural gift to make James Potter reconsider his last night's behavior. On the other hand, of course, James had been so distraught that Remus thought it was kinder to just offer him support, without the lecture or guilty-conscience-procedure.

But, just as he opened his mouth, James spoke.

"I know I was a bit of a prat to you yesterday, and I'm sorry for that, Moony"

This time, Remus grinned – James assumed his classic "guilty posture"(as Remus called it) – shoulders slightly slumped, head bowed, fingers fidgeting, and toes shuffling. And then came the 'final blow' – slowly, James lifted his face, to look at him, brown eyes living apology and earnestness. Which, in fact, instantly switched to bewilderment:

"Why are you grinning, is there something I said?"

Remus clapped a hand to his shoulder, biting back a snort, and assumed a serious expression.

"You're _always_ a bit of a prat, James, the trick is to get used to that"

James looked at him suspiciously: "You're not trying to make me feel more miserable than I already am, are you, Moony?"

"Of course I'm not, James.", - Remus sighed. "So.. What _happened_ last night? I heard you sneaking off and then waited till you came back. I though you were a ghost, you were so white."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Remus thought James avoided looking at him, when he said: "Let's … go for a walk."

There was a definite note of anxiety in his voice. Remus frowned, but followed him without a word as James led the way out of the crowded Common Room, down the many corridors and staircases, into the Entrance Hall and out on the Grounds. They headed to the lake, and came so near the edge their toes almost touched the water. Only then did James halt.

He stood looking silently at the dark mass before him, eyes strangely intent, and hands crisped tensely. One minute passed, then another, then several more. Remus waited patiently. Then, at last, James spoke: "I've got a story to tell you, Remus. You might find it very … strange. Maybe even sick. Maybe you'd never want to speak to me again after this." He shot the other boy a wary sideways look, and added: "But I need to tell someone, or I'll go mad."

"You can tell me anything, James, you know it." Remus said quietly, looking at his friend. He hoped he managed to keep the alarm he now felt out of his voice.

Quite suddenly, James turned to him and smiled. It was not his usual flashy grin, but a genuine, open, and somewhat vulnerable smile.

"I know it." He said. "That's why I came to you, Remus."

Remus was taken aback by this unexpected vote of confidence – James hardly ever fell into sentimentality, it was more of his own area of expertise. But when the first shock passed, Remus frowned. It was very strange indeed for James to come to him, when he and Sirius were close as brothers. Remus racked his brain, but found no explanation. Confused to no end, he stared at James's back in stunned silence, which, in fact, didn't last long.

"This story I'm talking about, it started last year, in September." – James began softly, and started walking slowly, bathing the soles of his shoes in the water. Remus followed him, staying away from the edge, and quickening his step to draw level with James.

"Remember what happened on the Hogwarts Express, Moony?" James asked suddenly.

"Sure I do, you and Sirius went silly with my chess set and started a fight, so I had to knock some sense into both your overlarge heads, then we all were out of our compartment, then Snape popped up and had a go at Sirius, and then we all hexed his head into the wall." – Remus answered recalling all the happenings of that day. He looked at James, a thought already half-formed in his mind. Slowly, he added: "The tripled spell knocked him unconscious, and… And you were the first one to run and check him."

"Yeah, I was. I didn't get a wink of sleep that night, you know – thinking about it. About him." James looked away on the lake again, and Remus watched his Adam's apple bob. He thought he had an idea about where this conversation led, and he didn't like it.

"Remus, there was something about the way he looked at me when he got conscious, it was just … so strange. I felt odd, I couldn't place that feeling. And then, that night when I was returning from that detention Malfoy gave me, he was there, waiting. Then I understood that … that ... well, I had a… weird sort of … crush on him."

Even though Remus had expected something of the sort, his jaw fell wide open just the same. He worked hard to get his face straight, and listen to his friend's story till the end. It was really bizarre, listening to James talking about his feelings for another boy. And _Snape_, out of every other possible candidate? This was just _bizarre._ Now Remus understood why James came to him. He wouldn't have risked telling this to Sirius – the conversation would have been the end of their friendship, that much was obvious. However, he felt very uncomfortable about all this thing, even though he was very grateful indeed that James skipped the most intimate parts. He wasn't sure he would be able to stand it…

James, meanwhile, was finished with his story – it took one full walk around the lake. They walked in silence for a while, and then, he spoke up again: "You know Moony, I actually thought I was in love with him. But now I know what that was - I just pitied him. Imagine, just for a second, that you're this kid with no particular talent except Potions and Dark Arts, whom everyone bullies and who has no friends. Awful, isn't it?"

Remus nodded his agreement, and James went on: "But I was 13 at the time. And rather stupid too – I didn't know anything about love then."

Remus scoffed: " Yeah, right, and now you're 14 and _so_ much wiser."

He didn't manage to duck, as a jet of water directed by James' wand splattered his robes. "Oh, shut up, Moony, sarcasm doesn't suit you!"

"Well, sarcasm's the only thing that deflates that fat head of yours James, and you really should be grateful, because without me it'd have exploded long ago.", Remus responded, drying his robes with his wand.

"I'll take your word for it, Moony."-, James said, grinning at his friend, and pocketed his wand. His grin faded, when she said: "I still can't forget that look he shot me, before I left. Remus, it was a promise of war. I really don't want to be daggers with Severus – we'd had too many good times together..."

"But, James, honestly, what did you expect? What you did was cruel, though necessary. Snape isn't the forgiving type of person, and the more miserable he is, the more vindictive he'll get. I suggest you watch your back."

"Yeah, but … I'd understood, if it were me."

"Would you, James? Are you sure? Imagine this – Evans comes to you after a year's worth of dates, and tells you it's over. What would you do then?" Remus asked, turning sharply to James.

James turned away. "Yeah, but that'd be possible if she fancied me, for a start. Which she clearly doesn't." His tone was somewhat bitter.

"You didn't answer the question, James" Remus prompted quietly.

James turned back to him, his eyes overbright. "I got the point, Moony, ok? There's no need to badger-"

"Calm down, and stop yelling at me. Won't badger anymore." Remus replied calmly.

As usual, the quiet tone had its effect – James abandoned the defensive position and sighed. "Sorry, Moony, I'm being a prat again."

"Apology accepted. I think we should get back to the Castle – Sirius is probably done with his detention, and is now looking for us, plus it's lunch time already, and I'm bloody frozen." James nodded, and they made their way back to the castle. They were almost at the front doors when James said: "Thanks for listening, Moony"

"Not at all, James."

They were crossing the Entrance Hall when James suddenly asked: "Moony, how'd you know that I fancy Evans? I never told anyone."

Remus smirked. "Potter, you're way too obvious when it comes to love affairs."

James shot him an alarmed glance, and Remus added in an undertone: "Though I had no clue about your _other_ interest."

They made their way into the great Hall, and, spotting Sirius and Peter halfway up the Gryffindor table, hurried over and took seats either side of them. Sirius first reprimanded them for sneaking off on their own, not warning him, and tried to find out what they were up to. After a few unsuccessful attempts he desisted and started telling them everything about his Detention in the library that Madam Pince set him. Remus, however, missed the most exiting part of the tale, involving colour-changing ink and Sugar Quills taking their place on Pince's bureau. He watched as Lucius Malfoy entered the Hall, leading Snape and talking to him in a very patronizing manner. They took neighbouring seats. Snape shot a malevolent look at James, and resumed his conversation with Malfoy. Remus frowned. He didn't like this sudden new friendship. But, as disturbing as he found it, he decided not to tell James yet. Soon enough, he joined the conversation, as it turned to the upcoming Transfiguration test and launched into the explanation of Switching Spells to Peter, who seemed rather lost in this subject.

"Damned bloody stupid boring unnecessary dull bleeding darned pointless Astronomy! Why did I have to take this damned Jupiter project?!"

That was the loudest grumble yet to have come from the armchair occupied by Ginny Weasley. She was sitting a little way away in her usual curled-up fashion, rather like a cat, and Harry wondered again how she managed to fold herself like that and feel comfortable, not to mention doing homework.

"You said 'damned' twice, Gin", he said, grinning at Hermione's disapproving face. She only just put up with Ron's language, but coming from Ginny it was too much for her.

Ginny's wand waved threateningly in his direction, but she didn't lift her eyes from the huge Astronomy book lodged on her knees.

"Harry, you'd better shut up, unless of course you have something to say about the moons of Jupiter."

"Lucky for you, I actually **do** know a thing or two about Jupiter's moons, Gin", Harry said, surprising even himself. In his honest bewilderment at this sudden stroke of brilliance, he didn't notice Hermione open her mouth and Ron nearly clapping his hand to it to silence her, hissing: "_Hermione… don't …interfere!"_, and receiving a startled glare.

"Do you really?" Ginny asked dubiously, looking up at him.

"Yep, contrary to popular beliefs, the area of my achievements goes beyond the Quidditch field and Voldemort-fighting routine." With these words Harry rose from his chair and took one nearer to Ginny, leaving his half-finished Divination homework on the table. He was grateful for this excuse to stop working on that dream diary, of which he was beginning to get heartily sick.

Ginny watched him cross the distance between them with a sad kind of half-smile. Only last year she would've given anything, _anything_ for this moment – Harry coming and sitting near her, helping her with studies, of his own accord. But right now she didn't feel ecstatic or even exited about it. It was just a pleasant, mellow kind of feeling… She was about to ask about that first moon, when something caught her attention.

Ron and Hermione were debating something in whispers, looking daggers at each other. Ginny nudged Harry and they paused to watch. Ron was clearly making a point to Hermione, with the air of someone explaining something extremely obvious. Hermione's arms were crossed, and the looks she gave him were those of mingled pity and annoyance. They were seated at a small distance, so Ginny caught only a few words of the debate:

"…should let them … best choice … you're smart, you should see…"

"Ron, you're pathetic … over with him … don't force those things… stupid, really…"

Ginny turned to Harry, one eyebrow raised. "Wonder what they're on about?"

Harry sighed. "Dunno. They're always bickering like that, drives me mad sometimes." He remembered how he snapped at them both that last time and his insides squirmed guiltily.

Ginny watched Ron and Hermione for a bit, and giggled. "Really, Hermione makes me wonder sometimes – she _really_ doesn't see how my brother's all over her, or is she just playing stupid?",- she said quietly, shaking her head. "Maybe it's you she fancies, of course",- she went on, looking at Harry, whose eyes went round as Galleons at such a suggestion,-"But they remind me so much of Mum and Dad… It'd be a shame if they didn't get together… Harry, don't look at me as if you never thought Hermione could fancy you! No, don't tell me you didn't… Wait… you really didn't?" It was Ginny's turn to look at him round-eyed for surprise when Harry shook his head mutely. She stared at him, apparently too surprised to speak, so Harry broke the silence.

"Actually, Gin, I really didn't think of Hermione _that_ way. She always was … you know… more of a sister to me." After a moment's consideration, he added: "A very bossy and know-it-all-ish sister, now I come to think of it. Definitely not my image of the perfect girlfriend."

Ginny laughed at this last comment. It reminded her something, and she asked him quietly: "Speaking of girlfriends… how's it going with you and Cho?" It felt odd, asking Harry about his love-life, but he was a friend, and she wanted him to be happy, even though she didn't like Cho. _Why, though?_ She decided she didn't want to think about the possible answer. She watched Harry's green-eyed gaze shift to the floor, as he muttered "Not sure…" Ginny didn't pursue the subject.

They sat for a moment in silence, Jupiter and his moons forgotten, and then Harry said: "Gin?'

"Hmm?"

"Sorry if it's a dumb question, I was just wondering… what's your full name?"

Ginny sighed, closing her eyes, and leant back into her chair. She didn't like being asked that particular question… But it was Harry, and he was usually rather subtle about private things like that. And he was now looking at her with genuine interest and some concern.

"I figured it was Virginia, you know, but… never mind that, I'll just shut up now." He finished somewhat lamely, staring at the feet of her chair.

Ginny smiled at him being so uncomfortable and patted his arm. "It's OK, Harry, I don't mind you asking." He looked up at her touch and returned her a small smile. Ginny drew a breath, before saying: " I guess Dad's got in a creative mood when they were choosing a name for me after I was born, I can't imagine any other Weasley coming up with the name "Ginevra". After all, he was the one who insisted on "Percival" and "Frederick"…" She sighed and shook her head, thinking of her Dad and his name-giving antics. Harry's voice made her snap out of the thoughts.

"I think it's a very pretty name, Gin. It sounds somewhat familiar…" Harry frowned, trying to place it, but he was spared the trouble.

"Does the name Guinevere ring a bell?" Ginny asked smilingly.

"Yeah, that's it! That's the same name, right? Only it has different forms, I remember Hermione telling something… in Celtic it sounds like Gwenwyhfar… I guess Ginevra is the Italian variation. Anyway, it's really beautiful."

_Funny_, Ginny thought, _how Michael_ _never asked me about my name, and we've been going out for several months , and Harry did_. _But that was after 3 years of knowing each other_, she reminded herself. _Yeah, but of these 3 years they only just started getting on normally_, she reminded herself again. She shook herself mentally – _too much thinking in odd directions_.

"Thanks.",- she said quietly, and smiled up at Harry, whose eyes still lingered on her face. She moved in her chair, and the Astronomy book slid down to the floor. Harry made to pick it up, but she waved him off.

"There's no point, I was bored stupid reading this anyway. So, Harry, about those moons, you said you know something, or maybe I should go straight to Hermione?"

Harry raised an eyebrow: "Do you really think I'm rubbish, or you just want to get rid of me, Gin?" Ginny opened her mouth to argue, but he didn't give her time for that, pointing at the small sofa occupied by Ron and Hermione: "Plus, I think she's too busy right now to pay attention to Jupiter and its moons anyway. I'm afraid you'll have to do with my poor knowledge in this area, Dame Ginevra.".

Indeed, Harry was right – on the sofa, the heated discussion went on, but it looked like Hermione was the only speaker, she obviously tried to impress a point on Ron, gesticulating animatedly and shaking her hair out of her eyes. Ron, on the other hand, sat listening with a rather dazed look, his mouth slightly open.

Ginny, overcome with a giggling fit at the sight, punched Harry on the arm. "You're horrible, do you know that?"

Harry grinned in response, green eyes twinkling. "I take that as a 'Yes, I could do with some help, please', then. Got your quill ready? Ok, here we go – first, there's Io, and, according to Professor Sinistra, it's covered with mice…"


	6. Talks and redheads

Chapter 6

Talks

"Gin? Gin, what's up? Hello?" Ron Weasley looked down at his sister in concern. She was sitting, cross-legged, in a chair in the far corner of the Common Room, staring into space, not acknowledging his presence in any way. Ron frowned. He'd already seen her like this, but it was in her First Year, and he sincerely hoped she got over it. Three years have passed since that time… Of course, Ron wasn't as foolish as someone (someone he knew pretty well, in fact – a short, curly-haired, know-it-allish someone) gave him credit for. Especially when it came to the people he cared about. Ron glanced down at Ginny again. He was worried. That haunted look only came into Ginny's eyes when she was thinking back on the First Year. A fresh wave of hatred towards Vol…- Riddle surged over the anxious feelings his sisters state awoke in him. Ron grit his teeth and felt his fingernails dig into his palms, as he balled his fists. Riddle's diary, slipped into his little sister's hands by Lucius Malfoy, almost broke Ginny. She nearly got killed in the end of her First Year. His little Ginny. Their only, little Ginny. Ron remembered the hollow, sickening feeling in his stomach, when he heard McGonagall's disembodied voice utter Ginny's name, the realization sinking in, that he might not see his sister again. And then he remembered the relief that spread through his body at the sight of Harry half-leading, half-carrying Ginny out of that chamber, relief so intense his legs felt like lead and his knees wobbled dangerously under him, and his breath caught in his chest. Ron smiled sadly, looking at the sunset-bright head. Only then, knowing that he'd lost her, did Ron realize how much he loved his little sister – annoying, talkative, impatient and lousy-tempered as she was.

A very familiar voice distracted him form thoughts about Ginny's and his childhood, making him start and scowl at two smirks which were identically annoying.

"Fred, do you see what I see?" asked George.

"Aye, I do, brother George" replied Fred nodding solemnly.

"Ickle Ginnykins needs severe cheering up, brother Fred" George stated with a solemn tone matching his twin's.

The twins looked at each other significantly, and, ignoring Ron's protesting expression, tackled Ginny, who, in turn, was ignoring them all very efficiently.

As much as Ron hated their methods, he had to admit they were very effective. They certainly did what they aimed for – distracted Ginny from her brooding thoughts, whatever they were. Jerked out of her little world of misery by the twins, she was now squirming and wiggling, trying to avoid their tickles, and trying to shout hexes through all the breathless laughter. Ron was amazed to see ominous sparks fly from the end of her wand, which lay on the floor and, it seemed, longed for some combat.

"Geroff, you bloody prats…. Fred, I'm warning you …. Ow! George! … Stop that, or I'll hex both your heads into oblivion!" Ginny panted between the efforts to shake both her brothers off. The attack ended just as abruptly as it came, and the next moment Ginny stood facing the twins, her eyes flashing, and her hands on her hips, her lips pursed in a dangerous way.

"Well, Ginnykins, we'll be going then" said Fred

"Yes, some urgent business we need to attend to, ickle sissy" said George

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere, you two piles of newt intestines!" Ginny growled, reaching for her wand. But the twins were too quick for her – they flashed identical grins a Ron, and disappeared through the portrait hole fast as blinking, leaving one furious and one relieved Weasley in their wake.

"Those two!" Ginny said, sounding uncannily like their mother. Ron smiled and ruffled her already messed-up hair. She scowled, throwing off his hand with an angry huff, making him smile.

Ron loved teasing her, it was a lifelong sport. He was now waiting for some scathing remark which normally made him laugh out and go on with the teasing, but it did not come. Instead, Ginny was looking at him with a very unusual, strange seriousness. This stare made him forget all playfulness. Ron sat down opposite her, keeping eye contact.

"What's wrong, Gin?"

"I was just wondering. Will you _ever_ realize I grew up, Ron? I'm not ickle Ginnykins anymore, but for some odd reason, none of my numerous relations wants to notice it, save, perhaps, dad. He treats me adequately, but he's just too overworked to be around much. And when I'm home I just feel like I'm drowning…" Ginny checked herself in mid-rant and looked at Ron.

Ron suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He wasn't good at heart-to-hearts, he wasn't good at serious talking at all, and always avoided it if he could. Now, however, there was no escape from Ginny's reproachful eyes.

"Look, Gin.."

"I do, Ron. I look around all the time and what I see is a family who want to keep me a little girl forever, while everyone who's not family treats me like an equal. Why is that? Ugh! It's just so unfair you can't imagine!" After a small pause she went on: "I grew up looking at my brothers, at the way Bill and Charlie had the 'big boys secrets', Fred and George had that complicity I was so jealous of, you were the closest to me, but even you had your 'sis, it's 'boys only' talk here, so get lost' moments, and I always wanted to be in, to be involved, or at least accepted. And nothing happened, it went on. "Nope, ickle Ginnykins, you're too small and slow to play with us!" (Ron had to bite his lip to contain a smile – the impression of the twins was too accurate) "Oh no, dear, you'll get hurt, just let Daddy set the fireworks off!" "Ginny, I don't think you are quite ready to see what's in those Pyramids yet" "Gin, it's grown-up business, why don't you run along and play with your toys?"

Ron felt strangely guilty. His sister was right. The more - he remembered his own feelings when his older brothers didn't let him in on some jokes, or just shunned him out of conversations. They were exactly the same.

He sighed and tore his eyes from the fireplace he had been staring at for quite some time now, to look at his sister.

"Ginny, we're just trying to … well … protect you."

"On yeah? From _what_? The scary broomsticks you all flew since the age of _three_? The life-endangering Filibuster's fireworks?_ They don't even need fire to get started! _The horrific spiders in the ghoul attic where you're all usually plotting mischief? _I've been in the bloody Chamber of Secrets with a bloody Basilisk, damnit!"_ Ginny was almost hissing the words out, like an angry cat, and looking positively vixen-like, with all the red hair flying around as she tossed her head.

Ron was about to bite back, but then he suddenly thought that a row with Ginny wasn't a good idea. This wasn't what she needed. So he let out another sigh and shook his head.

"Oh, stop it, Ron, will you? Don't make a Dad and go into grown-up silence and sighs, it only makes me feel worse!" Ginny grumbled quietly.

She made to stand up, her eyes overbright and lips twitching slightly. But Ron was quicker than his little sister. He stood up and grabbed Ginny into a rather clumsy hug.

"Geroff, Ron" she mumbled into his shoulder, but didn't move. Feeling a bit awkward, Ron patted her ginger head.

"It's just that we all love you, Ginny" He whispered, not sure if she heard him. A small sniff in the area of his shoulder wiped his doubts.

Ginny just started fidgeting a little, trying to degage herself when a loud and annoyingly familiar voice carried towards them.

"Oh, George, look! How very touching!"

"Indeed, Fred! I say – nothing better than a hug on a rainy day!"

"Shut it, you two! I'm still not done with you yet!" Ginny snapped, breaking away from Ron. The twins, however, did not heed her warning.

"You know, we think you should try that on little miss Don-t-break-the-rules-I'm-watching-you Prefect sometime"said Fred.

George nodded "Yeah, Ickle Ronniekins, we reckon that'd melt her right down. Make her too busy to chase our testers away from us anyway".

Fred winked. George clapped Ron on the shoulder . Ginny giggled and shook her head, looking at Ron's ears, now red as the setting sun.

By some inexplicable design of Fate, the aforementioned Prefect stomped into the Common Room at that same moment, looking very businesslike.

Hermione's eyes scanned the room and pinpointed the person she needed. She made her way towards Ron, inwardly noting that he looked odd and uncomfortable for some reason, and the sight of her somehow worsened his state. But then again, there were times when Ron would act odd around her, she got used to it. However exasperating he sometimes were (and that, she thought, was a lifelong practice for him), Ron was her friend, and she loved him regardless. _Maybe he'll cotton on, someday… I'm sure he will. Will he?_ Wondering this for the umpteenth time, Hermione caught Ron's sleeve and started talking: "Why on earth are you slacking in the Common Room, it's our shift today, and I need you on the Third Floor, some Second Year Slytherins are trying to wreak havoc in there, chasing Ravenclaw firsties, honestly, Ron, you should pay more attention, you're a Prefect, for heaven's sake!"

She steered a very flushed Ron through the portrait hole and out of sight, leaving three giggling Weasleys in her wake.

The Weasleys in question all laughed out as soon as Ron's heels disappeared. Ginny was the first to calm down a bit, and punched the nearest twin (who happened to be George) in the shoulder, saying: "Really, you should both die of shame right now, doing that to Ron. You _know_ he's incredibly shy when it comes to us discussing him fancying Hermione!"

"What, like you become when it comes to Harry?" George asked too innocently, making her narrow her eyes at him dangerously.

"Fred, don't be silly, Ginny's grown _over_ him, didn't you, Gin?" – Fred intervened, slyly.

"Oh, you're horrible, both of you!" – forgetting her promises of revenge, Ginny stomped out of the Common Room, leaving the twins laughing themselves silly at their own joke.

To tell the entire truth, Ginny wasn't really angry. Fourteen years of living with the twins made her immune to their 'jokes'. She just wanted to go out in the grounds and take a look at the lake, maybe. It always made her feel better if she felt sad or just unsure about something.

She went out of the castle, lost in thoughts (and they weren't about boys, contrary to a belief that became hugely popular this school year, a fact which annoyed Ginny immensely) ad walked toward the immense grey mass of water that was the lake. She wrapped herself tightly into her cloak, charmed by Hermione water-proof and warmth-holding, then she settled herself down on the grassy bank of the lake.

A fleeting thought that she may be late to the date with Michael crossed her mind, but she ignored it. Ginny had other things to think about.

However, she didn't manage to keep her solitude for as long as she hoped to.

"Shouldn't you be on a date with Michael Corner, Ginny?"

A smile crept on her face, as it always did, when she heard Neville Longbottom's very slight stutter. He only seemed to jump over some letters when he was talking to McGonagall. Or when he was talking to her.

"I should… but a bit of waiting won't kill him"

Ginny shifted a bit, and patted the patch of ground next to her.

Taking the hint, Neville sat down clumsily, bumping against her side in the process and flushing distinctly. Ginny's smile widened. Nevile was adorable, in his own clumsy way. She felt a small pang every time she thought about him, though. Every boy in Harry's year was being discussed by girls in her year, but, somehow, Neville Longbottom, was just 'this clumsy chubby boy'. Well, he was a bit clumsy, but no one said it was a crime. Look at Tonks – she's so clumsy, and still, Lupin can't take his eyes off her when he thinks no one's looking – Ginny thought furiously. Plus, Neville isn't really _chubby_ anymore. He grew several inches over the summer, and his cheeks weren't that round anymore… And, most important, he's grown in another way, a way few people at Hogwarts suspected, but if they did, they'd be surprised. Ginny knew that, because she spent much time with him after the Yule Ball, and she got to know Neville much better. He deserved more credit than everyone was giving him.

She still felt a little guilty, though. She knew the way he felt about her in her Third Year, and, most likely, things haven't changed much, but she made it plain then that she could only offer friendship back then. She still couldn't forget the sad look he gave her. But a friend he became, and she was glad of the fact.

He was looking at her with a small smile, and there was this little drop of sadness hidden in his eyes that caused her so many pangs of conscience.

"Playing on the poor bloke's nerves, are you, Ginny? That's not very nice of you, you know that?"

"Oh, well, I'm only nice to people who aren't my boyfriends, so you should be thankful you never became one"

As soon as she said it, she registered what _exactly_ she said, and was about to go drown herself.

_God, why oh why did I get the Fred and George gene?_

Surprisingly, Neville laughed a little at her not-so-subtle comment, and it seemed that he wasn't offended at all. Just a bit… amused?

"Ginny Weasley, you're a horrible woman. I'm not sure if I want to be your boyfriend in the first place."

Ginny's jaw fell at first, but then she recollected herself, and punched him playfully on the arm.

"Neville Longbottom, you're about to be Bat-Bogey-Hexed for that cheek!"

The boy raised his arms in mute surrender, and Ginny laughed, throwing her head back. Neville laughed a little bit too, watching her. There was something about Ginny Weasley (other than red hair) that made people notice her, and want her company. This was what drew him to her, in the first place. She was easy-going, and energetic, and very understanding. And objective, when need to be. That was why he valued her as a friend. He wanted to be more than a friend, but he knew quite well this was as impossible as him becoming Harry Potter. And, he noticed, it was becoming easier for him to live with that, somehow.

"Ginny, tell me one thing… but put that wand away first, I don't want to sprout antlers or something even less aesthetic"

Suspicious, but very curious anyway, Ginny stuffed the wand in her pocket. "There. Now, ask away before I change my mind"

Neville grinned, seeing her face shine with curiosity.

"Tell me, young lady (Ginny snorted) when are you going to talk to Harry? And stop making that face. Maybe you got everyone else fooled, but not me. I'm your friend, remember?"

Ginny sighed. Yes, Neville really got to know her well. Only Hermione and the twins knew. Obviously, Neville guessed it too. However hard she tried not to think about Harry Potter as something more than just her brother's friend, she couldn't deny that often those thoughts drifted off in very odd directions.

"I… I don't think I can answer that question, Neville. It … it's … complicated"

Neville sighed, seeing her confusion, and patted her arm comfortingly. He didn't want to hurt her, but he knew her present love life was a crafty little device to get her thoughts off the main object of her sympathies. He wanted what was best for Ginny, to see her real happiness, not just a façade put to fool everyone else. Obviously, she wasn't ready for that yet.

"Let's forget about it for the time, then"

They sat in shifty silence for a time, and then Neville got up.

"Right. I think I'd better go now. Transfiguration starts in about 20 minutes, and I've got to find my way to the classroom without bumping into Peeves once. Sorry if I offended you with my question"

Ginny smiled at his joke, and shook her head. "You didn't offend me, Neville. you just caught me off-balance there. Thanks for caring about me, though. I really do appreciate it."

With a final smile and nod, Neville departed, and left her alone with her thoughts. And when she calmed herself down enough, she got up, too, and made it to the Castle. After all, Michael must have been waiting for her for about an hour already…


	7. Bottles and Broodings

**Chapter 7**

**Bottles and broodings**

The office was dark, a lonely candle's remains emitted more smoke than light, and every shape seemed oddly distorted in this fragile, flickering half-darkness. There was no sound but the glum drip-drip of something from a shattered jar, and gentle bubbling coming from a forgotten cauldron. The stone walls and floors were looking as dreary as ever, shining damply in the gloom.

A sliver of light lay across the floor, cutting it in two extravagant parts. It was coming from an especially dark corner, where a usually magically hidden door was left ajar.

Behind the door there was another room, slightly more spacious than the office, and less gloomy and dark. That fact, though, was largely due to the soft illumination, provided by a shallow stone basin filled with neither liquid nor gas, sitting on a small coffee table.

The furniture consisted of an old wardrobe, and armchair, a heavy-set sofa, a writing desk complete with a straight-backed chair. There also was a chest standing in a corner, the whole ensemble completed with four tall stands of bookshelves for each wall.

With a thud, muffled by a ragged carpet, which probably had been green several centuries ago, an empty bottle fell and rolled under the sofa.

A glazed black-eyed gaze followed its progress. With a groan, Severus Snape threw his head back, closing his eyes. There was a deep vertical crease between his eyebrows, and his lips were twitching, as if he was trying to talk with his mouth shut.

Abruptly, he stood up, swaying, and made for another door, the one heading to his bathroom. The last few steps seemed to drain his remaining strength, so he gripped the door for support and thus prevented himself from falling. Taking a few deep breaths, he stumbled inside, cursing under his breath. After the first 'damn' the room glowed with candlelight.

Somehow, copious amounts of alcohol in his blood increased his wandless abilities, especially if he used swear words instead of incantations. That was a source of entertainment for Lucius and his gang, where Severus was introduced in his Fourth Year. He had his first taste of Firewhiskey then, and woke up next morning fully clothed in someone else's bed, with a vicious hangover, and no recollection of the evening whatsoever. As he later found out, he had demonstrated some of his impromptu spells on the people around (who didn't have serious injuries only because they were too drunk and bloody lucky), and thus put his reputation out of the question.

Severus set the cold water running and leant his forehead to the mirror, putting his hands on either side of the sink.

Suddenly, not quite covered by the noise of splashing water, he heard a voice. It was a voice so familiar, so missed, and yet so loathsome it made him start violently, and open his eyes.

"Severus"

There, in the mirror, he saw the face that had been haunting his dreams for the last 20 years.

"No. Not you. Not now."

Of course, that feeble attempt at blocking the voice didn't work. All the Occlumency in the world wouldn't have helped here. The face in the mirror only shimmered a little, and suddenly there was a perfectly solid James Potter reflecting in the smooth surface, standing only a few paces away.

"Severus"

The voice repeating his name sounded oddly muffled, as if it was coming from a great distance.

"It's been a long time since you last came, James. A bloody long time. Almost five years, I think. I had the impression I made it clear that I didn't want to see you ever again, be it in spectral or any other form. You're being your annoying self even in the afterlife, though… What kind of utter rubbish will you be pestering me with now, I wonder? You've come to try and 'reason' me again, haven't you? Or maybe, you just missed me so much you popped down here to have a look at my pretty face?"

Severus tried in vain not to sway on the spot (after all, a bottle was his limit, but tonight he drowned two and a half), and the slurr in his voice was one bit too heavy not to notice.

James' surprisingly solid spectre watched him with sad concern.

"Severus, you have to stop running, someday soon you'll hit a dead end"

"I don't need cryptic warnings from hallucinations, thanks very much"

James just continued watching him silently. Severus glowered back into the looking glass.

"I'm not 13, I don't need anyone's advice, yours least of all, Potter"

"Of course. You're all grown-up, Severus. But you don't want to grow up in certain aspects. You don't grow _over_ some things"

Severus didn't meet the spectral hazel eyes this time. James' voice sounded closer.

"I forgave you for what you've done. And Lily did too. Why can't you do the same and let it go?"

Snape's head snapped up abruptly. He looked more ghostly that the man inside the mirror. Black eyes stood out on the waxy skin, and his teeth were bared in a feral grin.

"Oh of course. You and your angelic Mudblood wife have both forgiven me from the grave I sent you to. And now you want me to do the same and stop torturing your bastard of a son. Well, let me enlighten you: forgiveness doesn't come easily on this side of the mirror. Here vengeance is more powerful. And I _will_ have my full revenge."

He expected to anger this ghost of a memory, wanted it to loose its temper (do hallucinations even have tempers?), but it didn't happen. Instead, his nemesis gave him a sad smile.

"Maybe vengeance is your way of keeping memories close, Severus?"

And he vanished, dissolved into nothing right before Severus' astonished eyes.

The man stood still for a second, then let out a roar of frustration, snatched something from the sink and threw it. The glass shattered, showering him with sharp bits.

"Damn you to hell, James Potter!"

The water in the sink kept running. Swaying, Severus managed to totter towards the tub and a rather elaborate curse set one of the faucets to work. Later it turned out to be the cold water one, but at the moment Severus couldn't care less. Without undressing, Severus threw himself into the tub, acquiring a few bruises in the process. Silently, he Summoned a fresh bottle and took a long draught.

"_It's a way of keeping memories close"_

How on this thrice bedamned earth could a hallucination be right?

"I hate you, James Potter"

He closed his eyes, and threw his head back, shutting everything off by a thick wall of darkness.

He only came to his senses when felt that something was being done to his hair. Severus tensed, and almost uttered a killing curse when a low, husky voice spoke.

"Professor should lay still while Alda takes care of him"

Abruptly realizing that he was half-sitting in his own bed, wearing pyjamas and thick woolen socks, all warm and dry (except for his hair, which now was, it turned out, being dried with a towel), he tried to straighten himself up with a croaky groan, but was immediately shoved back into place. How creatures four times smaller than the average human could posess such strength when needed was beyond him. Resignedly, Severus looked up to meet grey orb-like eyes.

"Yes, professor, Alda comes to take care of professor Snape. He fell asleep in a cold bath, and Alda found a bottle again…"

The Elf tutted under her breath, froze, and made to strangle herself with the very towel she was holding. Severus snatched the towel out of her fingers irritably.

"Will you stop doing that? You're perfectly allowed to criticize me and live through it, Alda, I thought we made it clear years ago!"

Alda the House Elf only took a deep breath and nodded. Her large, sad grey eyes lingered on the man's harsh face. Severus looked around, searching for his wand. Alda produced it from between the folds of the white cloth she was wearing and held it out to him. He took it with a curt nod, and dried his hair in one spell.

"Why are you so fond of drying my hair without magic, Alda? It takes ages…"

"Master Severus should keep his memories at bay. Master lets them haunt him, and bruise him. Master must stop. Alda knows what happened today in Master's office. The Potter boy looked into the Pensieve. Master Severus shouldn't hate the boy. The little one is not his father."

Black eyes narrowed and got veiled with anger.

"Now here's something I don't usually discuss with House-Elves. You have said quite enough, Alda. Go now."

The Elf surveyed the man with sad eyes.

"Alda was there when Master Severus wasn't Professor yet. She's seen many things, heard many talks. Alda does not judge, it is not her place to do so. She knows, but she will not tell anyone."

"Go."

The tone was ice itself in its finality.

"Professor may be angry with Alda, bust she only wishes him well."

Alda went to the door. She stopped in the doorway for a last look.

"Master Severus says he doesn't know forgiveness, yet he should, by now"

Severus watched the door close silently, and relaxed the grip on his wand. He laid back, and massaged his temple.

"Forgiveness is a luxury unaffordable to me, Alda."

Suddenly he felt so tired he ached all over, and his limbs became heavy like lead. Already slipping in a deep slumber, he mumbled:

"I will hate anyone I please, be it Potter senior or his junior brat… or these moronic pyjamas and ridiculous socks…"


End file.
